


Confirmation

by shamrock



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamrock/pseuds/shamrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Korsac holds her eyes for a moment before he closes the door and she thinks she should be able to read the meaning in his gaze, but Jane was always the one who could read people and so his message is lost on her.'</p><p>Post S1 finale Maura-centric oneshot - what goes through her head in those few minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confirmation

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... I have no idea where this came from. Brief un-beta'd oneshot for the sake of actually writing something I guess. And look, it's not Buffyverse - go figure.

Maura Isles works, lives, and thinks according to a strict set of parameters. In her work she's presented with greys of varying scales, and it's her job to label them black and white. She has distinct methods by which she does this; clear approaches to every problem, formulas that yield definitive results. She analyses and interprets the evidence, and once she has confirmation of the results she can then translate that evidence into concrete facts.

To anyone who doesn't have a strong grounding in her field of science, what Dr. Isles does on a daily basis is astounding. Through observation of a single hair on a victim's shirt she can identify one man out of a dozen suspects as a killer. What she marvels at though, constantly, is what Boston PD in general, and Jane Rizzoli in particular can do with that evidence. Her job begins and ends with the objects of a crime scene but Jane's expands to take in the whole human condition, and watching her walk through that world makes Maura a little light-headed sometimes.

It's not that she doesn't 'get' people, as the parlance goes, ('Goofy', Jane calls her - the sweetest euphemism she's ever heard put to her collection of mildly-sociopathic traits) it's just that manipulating them in the same way she would a piece of diagnostic equipment is something that's completely beyond her. She's good - very good in fact - at watching, observing and noticing, it's what to do with the results that trips her up every time.

Which is why, watching Jane get shot, there's no sudden moment of clarity where she realises she's in love with her, no momentous crystallisation of a half-formed theory into a blossoming awakening. She's known for years.

Instead Maura feels only rage. Cold, clean rage that she clings to because it quells the roiling, red-hot fear that pulses incessantly in her gut. She takes in the scene - Jane crumpling, reaching out to her; Bobby, already glassy-eyed and prone underneath her. She sees the gun beside them and fights the impulse to grab it and empty every last bullet into the sick, desperate son-of-a-bitch. Jane's apartment: the other woman's warm, patient amusement as she teaches Maura how to hold her gun... "You look badass."

She wants to pull the paramedics away from Jane. She wants to scream at them to leave her alone because she, Dr. Isles, can save her. She's already managed to keep Frankie alive (for now anyway) when he had no right to be, so why not Jane too? She stops two feet away from the desperate attempts to save Jane's life, brought up short by just how irrational she's being. She's not a medical doctor, wouldn't even know where to start. The part of her brain that needs more than anything to be in control of the situation shuts the hell up for once and an unfamiliar, half-forgotten voice pipes up. _"Please God, get her through this and I'll tell her. I won't waste another second, I promise, just let her live."_

Maura knows as she thinks it, murmurs it in fact without noticing, that she's striking a bargain with a god she doesn't believe in, but there's comfort in that voice. _8 years old and praying ferverently to a god she's starting to question, but not enough to give up the hour-and-a-half each Sunday that she gets to spend with her ever-increasingly distant parents, "Please God..."_

Her hands twist together, uselessly as she stands watching. Korsac and Frost are at her shoulder, each of them radiating the same frenzied worry that's coursing through her. The paramedics roll Jane onto the board and start to lift her towards the ambulance, hurriedly, with a singularity of purpose. The implications of this aren't lost on Maura or Jane's partners - she's alive, they're trying to save her, there's hope. All three experience a momentary shared wash of relief before the gravity of the situation closes back in and Maura, automatically and without hesitation, climbs into the back of the bus. Korsac holds her eyes for a moment before he closes the door and she thinks she should be able to read the meaning in his gaze, but Jane was always the one who could read people and so his message is lost on her.


End file.
